#he'd do anything to keep regulus safe

[lulublack90]

Prompt 3 - Dressed

@rosekillermicrofic September 3, word count 362

Previous part First Jegulus part

When Barty finally woke the next morning, it was to the smell of bacon and coffee. Barty hummed happily as he buried his face in his pillow, stretching out his entire body before reluctantly getting up and walking into the shower. 

The shower was massive. Evan had insisted on this exact one when they’d renovated the flat. It had been ludicrously expensive, but Barty felt it was worth every penny as the hot water pounded into his sore muscles, massaging out the activities of the previous night. 

Regulus was waiting in the kitchen after he’d pulled himself away from the shower and got dressed. 

“Reg, my other love, you’re here early,” He grinned, swooping in and stealing a kiss from him before he crowded behind Evan at the stove. “Hmmmm, hello first love,” He hummed as he bit Evan’s earlobe. Evan let out a sharp hiss but leaned back into him. 

“This is nearly ready and once we’re done we’re going to help Regulus move some stuff from Grimmauld,” Evan told him as he pushed the bacon around the pan. Barty shuddered and turned to look at Regulus.

“Are you finally moving out?” He asked hopefully. Regulus squirmed in his seat. 

“Possibly, it all depends on how they take it when I come out to them,” Barty froze. They’d kill him. 

“Reg, do you think that’s a good idea? I mean, look what they did when you got a B on your History GCSE.”

“It was nothing, I can handle them,” Regulus waved him off. 

“Reg, you should have gone to the hospital, the only reason you didn’t was because you begged us not to take you,” Barty was so close to shouting at his friend he had to take a deep shaky breath. “Just be careful alright, and tell us when you’re going to do it so we can be on standby,” He pleaded. Regulus nodded and Evan handed him a bacon sandwich. 

“It's a good job we’ve got the van,” Evan smiled at Regulus. Barty huffed and began biting huge mouthfuls out of his sandwich, wanting to get on and get Regulus out of that house as soon as possible.  

Next part

[psychoticallykind]

In A Minute

"Shine" - Jegulus Microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 392 words

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"What's the purpose of these again?"

"They're for nighttime!" James looked up at him from his crouched position. "See, they're reflective, so when your - um, when someone drives up, the lights will shine back at them and help direct them safely to the house."

"My brother," Regulus grumbled. "You were about to say that they're for when my brother drives up. Because he hit the fence last week, and now I'm out in the cold because of his mistake."

"You can go inside if you want," James offered.

Regulus rolled his eyes. "And leave you to suffer? Because of him? How is that fair?" He huffed, waving his hand at James's place on the ground. "You're already doing all the work."

James stood up and pulled him into a hug, his back against James's chest. James was warm, and Regulus melted into him. "You can go inside if you want, I'll be okay for a few minutes. And you've been very helpful."

"I handed you a little reflective sign from the bag." Regulus made a face James couldn't see. "That's not actually helpful."

"It was very helpful, and you handed me loads of reflective signs. Now we're on the last ones, and we're just about back to the house." James rocked them a little bit, tightening his hold. Regulus loved it when he did that - added tight pressure. It made him feel safe.

Even outside, freezing to death because his idiot brother couldn't drive.

"We're almost done?"

"Just about, love," James hummed. "Three more, and then we can go inside and make some hot chocolate. Or you can go in and start making it now, and I can finish up out here."

The warmth of inside was tempting. But James was outside, and James was the important bit here.

He'd freeze for hours to watch James smile in triumph every time he got one of those little signs in the ground. To hold his hand as they walked down the driveway. To talk about anything that came up, casual and easy.

To just exist together. That was enough.

"I guess three isn't so bad." Regulus held James's arms where they were crossed over his waist, keeping them there. "In a minute."

James's laugh was bright and fond, and Regulus instinctively smiled at the sound.

"Sure." James kissed his shoulder. "In a minute."

[lexxxrated]

WAIT IF WE’RE ALLOWED TO ASK/REQUEST…..I AM /BEGGING/ TO HEAR YOUR TAKE ON NSFW ALPHABET WITH REGULUS

hahaha I can never say no to you guys

Regulus Black NSFW Alphabet:

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

I feel like Regulus is very regimented; he has a plan and goes into action immediately haha. Draws a bath/starts the shower, begins cleaning up, like total doting mother hen 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

We’ve discussed his hand kink before, but I also think he'd be like a collar bone and ankles person lol and maybe thighs! and of his own?......I think he'd love his jaw line?? idk lol

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Hmmm see, I’ve headcanoned that purebloods all have breeding kinks because they were basically raised with the belief that their job is to further the bloodline haha. And i think Regulus takes this very seriously 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He’s a perv. Definitely the kind to steal your panties & jack off with them. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Hmmmm this is hard tbh. I could see him having a lot of experience with guys? Like barty and evan, but not necessarily as much with girls? Idk why.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Any position that you’re tied up/restrained (also maybe anything with a mirror – makes him feel in control and he likes the view) 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I don’t see him being very goofy hahaha

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I think he keeps it trimmed; not necessarily man-scaping but a trim fs

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he's fucking intense; somewhat aggressive and dominant/mean (but would be quite a little melt if you could convince him to bottom/sub for you)

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he's a dirty little freak (affectionate) so I see him masturbating a lot. like, daily, sometimes multiple times a day - he cannot control himself and sometimes even the most innocent/innocuous things turn him on

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Hand kink, breeding kink, i think he could be a voyeur (re: perv), uhmm i could see him liking BDSM

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The bedroom; i think he’s got too many things he wants to do to you to just do it anywhere iykwim

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He’s easy to get going; the most innocent/innocuous things get him riled up. We’ve talked on lexxxrated about his hand kink, which is just one example.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I could see him saying no to stuff simply because you want to do it lol. Just to be contrary/bossy. I think he gives in eventually but always on the premise that it was his idea. Turn off’s…hm…idk…IDK!

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Prefers receiving 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Hmm…usually fast & rough unless it’s makeup sex

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

I don’t think he likes quickies tbh, as mentioned above that he has too much he wants to get out of sex (please see location) 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Hmmm, no not with safety and not with getting caught i don’t think. If he tries a new kink/bondage thing he does a LOT of research and ensures it has fail safes etc like he’s not fucking around with that.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

I think he loves the idea of overstimulating you so he'd go for long (but if he bottoms/subs he's a whimpering mess after only one)

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Yes i can see him being a toy guy for sure.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he's a fucking dick (i.e., teases constantly)

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

hmmmmmm I'd say he's medium - not a screamer but he's yapping his pretty little mouth the whole way through

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Hahaha i feel like i’ve left bits and bobs throughout this alphabet already

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I've done a comparison here

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Hmmm. i mean, he’s a little perv and easy to get going, but he’s the kind who will just jack off to sort of get over that and move on so idk…maybe medium i guess

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

No he’s a busy man lol, he’s got too much to do (aftercare) afterwards to sleep

[aithusarosekiller]

Do you think Sirius ever carried the foolish hope that his brother was alive?

We know he sees him as a stupid brainwashed kid more than anything, so do you think than in the back of his mind he has the childish hope that maybe he's okay. Maybe he's out there somewhere, living his life far away from the second war as a reformed man

Maybe he looked for him in streets and windows when he broke free from Azkaban, not even realising what he was doing.

Like everyone else, he adopts the impression that Voldemort caught him trying to run away and made an example of him, but there was no solid evidence to make him 100% on that, so he very well could have had doubts that he crushed down into the back of his mind and put down to foolishness. It wasn't like James of Lily where he saw their bodies or Marlene and Dorcas where he'd heard the recounts of their deaths. All they ever would've heard is that he'd gone missing, the rest was deduction- but what if they were wrong? What if their assumption was incorrect?

Do you think he looked extra carefully at every person he crossed just incase his brother was there? He's lost both of his brothers once before; if he could get one of them back it would've fixed a bit of the tear his soul

While he's sitting in his cell, he imagines his brother waiting at home for him to come back so he can apologise and promise never to side with voldemort again. When he gets out and can't find him, he carefully curates the idea of him living a quiet life in the French suburbs, unaware of the conflict and chaos in England and perfectly safe from the world. Nobody would ever call it plausible but it keeps him going nonetheless

When he feels himself dying in the department of mysteries, he pleads that his silly hope was wrong, that all along, Regulus truly was dead. That way, he'd be able to reunite with both of his brothers after all.

[danceinthunder]

James and Regulus had to work hard to understand each others needs to make a healthy relationship with one another.

James' need to help everyone around him was fueled by a deep desire for his friends to stay safe. The responsibility pushed down on his shoulder and morphed a caring quality into an unhealthy codependency and need for attention.

And Regulus could amuse him most of the time. Giving James attention was never difficult because his love and happiness deserved praise that Regulus was forever eager to give to him. But Regulus needed alone time and wished that James didn't see it as a sign of rejection every time he asked for it. Wished that James' need to keep everyone happy wasn't such a double-edged sword that stabbed him with blame anytime he thought he messed up.

James had to swallow the bitter pill that Regulus needed to be by himself sometimes. Not because he had done anything, not necessarily because Regulus was sad. Sometimes Regulus just needed space and James was really trying to respect that. Tried not to linger outside the closed door Regulus would sometimes shut himself in. Tried not to blame himself for failing him, or messing up. Because he hadn't. Regulus has said so, promised he hadn't done anything wrong.

And Regulus needed to learn that he couldn't allow his anger to adapt into silence. He couldn't lock in his feelings and ignore his problems and the people who loved him and wanted him to be okay.

The last time Regulus gave the silent treatment was when he fell back into the old jealous thoughts he felt as a child: thoughts of the happy and perfect James Potter drawing his brother away from him with his siren song laughter and lightness. He couldn't look at James and refused to speak to him for five days until Remus knocked at his front door.

Remus who was calm almost all of the time, stood red in the face and swallowed down the yells of anger that sat in his throat to tell him that James had fallen asleep on his and Sirius' sofa crying in confusion, sure that he'd done something wrong and Regulus was going to break up with him.

And that broke Regulus' vow of silence as he raced across London to collect his sad sunshine and try and explain his way through days of silence and stained feelings that stuck to him and corrupted him in bitterness.

And James sat and listened to him. He told him that he could be angry whenever he needed to. That Regulus' feelings were real and something that needed to be experienced rather than ignored.

But he couldn't deal with suck extreme solitude when they were so close to each other. Couldn't help but feel sick when his questions and attempts to talk were completely ignored and returned with silence.

It made him sick and sick and sick.

His lungs laughed at him and suffocated him and his thoughts jeered and blamed and reminded him of all his failures, of his incapability to help.

So they agreed to communicate. To talk and to listen and to give space. To respect each other and the individual needs.

There is a mess behind the art of compromise. Smudges and stains made from failed attempts but agreements to try again. It wasn't picture perfect but they’d both do what it takes for it to succeed because they loved each other - that’s what is important.

[cosmiclove-jpg]

@microcest Prompt: “Shhh…Don’t Let Mom Hear”

Fandom: Harry Potter

Ship: Sirius Black/James Potter Implied Regulus Black/Sirius Black w/ a dose of future Remus Lupin thrown in the mix.

Word count: 741

-------

"Nmph anpmh bremph," Sirius struggled behind the large hand cupping his mouth and nose. James loosened his grip to hear Sirius below him gasp for air. It was the dead of night, with only the moon shining through the sheer curtains in James' room. 

"Oh, shit, sorry." James stilled his movement, moving his hand to rest on Sirius' cheek, allowing him to take deep, steady breaths. 

"Okay, okay, I'm - ah - you can keep going - oh fuck" James braces himself, both hands palms down on each side of Sirius' head. Gripping the sheets, he slowly pulls out and thrusts back inside his best friend, his brother. This was the first summer break Sirius had spent every night at the Potters, his new home. 

"Pads, you need to keep it down."

"I'm trying just fuck; you feel so good, Jamie." This was the first summer break they did this almost nightly.

"Pads, please. Our mom's a light sleeper, you know that."

"Your mother." Sirius whispered with a hint of sadness in his voice.

"Stop that, you're my brother. She loves you just as much."

"I already had a brother."

"Have, love. We'll get him out. We'll get him out and show him what a home feels like."

James quickened his pace, in and out in a steady rhythm mimicked by the smaller boys: Ah, ah, ah. James slowly lowered himself to his elbows, making sure his rhythm didn't falter. He placed his forehead on the others; they were breathing the same air. Puffs of hot breath tickled the other, lips centimeters apart, but they didn't kiss. James hasn't asked why. It's not something they do. 

"Kiss me," Sirius said, taking James by surprise. He looked into the other boy's eyes, trying to find anything that told him Sirius didn't mean it. All he saw was love. When their lips met, they made soft, gentle movements. They were passionate but not hungry. 

Their movements grew increasingly frantic, and their breathing became labored. Sirius lowered his right hand from their grip on James' hair and began to stroke himself as quickly as he could. James felt Sirius clench around his cock; he knew he was close. With a shuddering sigh, Sirius spilled over his hand and stomach as James gave one, two, three more thrusts and spilled inside his best friend. 

----

James wrapped his arm around Sirus' waist and pulled him close to his chest. They lay in the afterglow, waiting for their heart rates to slow and their breathing to even out. With his back against his chest, James couldn't tell if the smaller boy had fallen asleep until he spoke up. 

"He was my first kiss, and I was his... I haven't, not with anyone else." James didn't have to ask who Sirius was talking about. He knew he missed his brother, our brother. He knew the guilt that lived inside his best friend was eating away at him the longer he spent not knowing if he was okay. James squeezed Sirius a little closer to comfort him and remind him of his promise earlier that night. 

A few minutes passed before Sirius spoke up again. 

"Prongs?" 

"Mmm?" James replied sleepily, burrowing his face in Sirius' hair and breathing in his scent. 

"Do you think if we invite Moony to be with us, he'll want to?" James was waiting for Sirius to bring up their other best friend. He moved his head to rest his chin on the other boy's shoulder. 

"Like be with us or be with us?" 

"Both"

"I'd like him to be." And he did. James loved his best friends and would do anything to keep them all safe. 

"Me too…do you think – do you think he'd be weirded out about.."

"I think you can carve out Moony's heart with your bare hands, and he'd apologize for bleeding on your shirt." He knew he said the right thing as he felt his best friend wiggle in excitement and classic tell for his happiness. Leave it to Sirius Black to find that statement romantic. 

"I think I'm in love with him." 

"I know." and I'm in love with your brother, James thought, but that's a conversation for another day.

"I love you too, you know, and I love my--" His voice cracked, unable to finish his thought.

"I know, Pads; go to sleep, yeah? We'll owl Moony in the morning."

Both boys breathing evened out, and Euphemia Potter was able to go back to sleep. 

[lex-dr4ws]

TW: mentions of death and violence

~~~

James has never told anyone about his feelings, his fears, or his problems. No one ever knew what he was feeling deep down. Because he was the sunshine. He was the kind of friend who always seemed happy and confident.

He was extroverted, bold, and even a bit cocky from time to time, and people thought he was just extremely lucky to be so carefree, but the truth is he was just a good liar.

He was good at convincing people that everything was okay, and he would always get them to talk about themselves instead, because showing his vulnerable side was too dangerous.

In fact, James was probably the most anxious of the four marauders. Not because of the consequences of their pranks or something like that, but because of everything else.

He had to be successful at everything he did, it was like a principle. Even if he was effortlessly talented, he couldn't help but feel the need to make everyone proud, to show the world he wasn't just a rich pureblood. He had to make sure each person he loved was safe and happy, which was the hardest part.

He was worried about full moons, even after he, Sirius and Peter became animagi, because what if the wolf in Remus started to hurt itself again? And what would happen after they graduate? The marauders couldn't be with Remus every full moon after their seventh year.

On the other hand, he was always keeping an eye on Sirius when he was still at Grimmaurd Place, sending owls every week so that he didn't feel alone and impatiently waiting for his response, praying hard that his mother wasn't too violent. He was greatly relieved when his best friend moved in with him, but then he started worrying about Regulus.

He loved his family and friends so much that he always had to keep them close to make sure he'd never lose them. He was the most devoted friend, the most loving son, and the most trustworthy brother by heart Sirius could ever wish for, and he would do anything for all of them.

Unfortunately, at some point, the war got worse, and he started losing them one by one. It started with Regulus. James never knew how he died, but he felt his heart breaking when the young death eater went missing. In the same year, both of his parents died from dragon pox. A year later, he and Lily had a baby, which made him the happiest man in the world, and he promised himself he would fight at all costs to give his son the best future he could.

His friends Marlene and Dorcas died the next year. On Halloween night, when someone rang the doorbell, he made his way to the door, ready to offer some sweets, but instead, he met the gaze of Peter, followed by the man who destroyed so many lives. Voldemort.

The moment James saw those red eyes, he knew. This would be his last Halloween. This was the only time tears were seen on his cheeks. He had been betrayed. By one of his closest friends. Everything he had worked hard to build had just collapsed right in front of him.

The dark lord didn't wait a minute to cast the unforgivable curse on him. He heard his own knees hitting the wooden floor, and then the worst sound he had ever heard made him choke in terror-the cries and screams of the two people he loved more than anything in the world. And he took his last breath.

[remushrts]

Cursed - starchaser

— pairings: regulus black x james potter

— a/n: angst angst angst, i feel like i'm writing a lot of it these days. also, asks are open if you want to request anything!

— summary: the last visit Regulus pay to James

In a way or the other, James Potter always had a way into Regulus Black's gut. In a obnoxious, cute, extremely annoying way. Regulus hated it. To some extent. Sometimes, though, he was grateful.

They said love can't save a person. Well, Regulus says whoever said that must not have known James Potter, or they'd immediately come forward in shame to admit their mistake. Regulus, until not long ago, believed James' love could raise the dead if he so wanted.

Now, he prays for the gods it doesn't.

The cave was horrible. It was damp and smelled like death, but maybe it was only fitting. Maybe it was just what Regulus deserved. He shook the thought away, locket clasped in hand. He wouldn't die a coward, but he wouldn't die a martyr or in the bliss of knowing the war was won either. He'd die like a man. Like Icarus, who have loved the sun and tried to reach it, only to find his death in the obscure depths of a lightless ocean.

Apollo's eyes could reach him no further. Maybe Regulus should be grateful. So he began.

He drank and drank and drank, although his lungs burned with every sip, although his foolish mind begged him to call for help. For him. As if he'd still come, even after all this time, even after he swore to Regulus' face he'd rather die. Still, if Regulus held the hope somewhere within him, he didn't do anything to prove it. No, he just drank. Pretended it was firewhiskey, or cheap muggle alcohol that Barty would always have in hand, pretended he was in a gryffindor's party instead of this cave where light could not reach, pretended, of course, that he was there with him, hand in hand as he drank. James. His sun, his light.

His absence was excruciating to him, it came to Regulus with another gulp of the burning liquid. It hurt him, to remember, and Regulus cursed his memory, ever so good at storing things, for bringing that up right now. But maybe it was just trying to give Regulus a good memory for him to hold into. He wished it was that simple.

He wished the liquid didn't felt like erasing his very self. Erasing his soul, until all that was left was the hollow shell of him. And the memory of James slamming the door at him. James, the night they fell apart; James with a look of horror in his eyes, but not just that. Disgust. Pity.

James Potter looked at Regulus with such hatred that he thought he'd fall apart from it. When James hated someone, he hated them murderously. It took everything in Regulus to walk away.

"Tell me you love this, tell me you're not miserable." James inquired, the day Regulus had come to see him, before James even knew. Before they fell apart. One where Regulus too have shown up at James door. One where he was stared at in the eyes, longing of love still in his pupils. But James didn't took him in. He just stared. And it came to him that Regulus didn't have an answer. He didn't, because he hated it. He hated his family, his vow to serve the dark lord, his tongue turned bitter from it. He hated that he went straight to James, that he was the first person on his thoughts.

James listened in disbelief, until Regulus rolled up his sleeve. Then, he took a step back, and Regulus' heart shattered with it. "I didn't have a choice, James."

"Bullshit." He called it. "Sirius escaped, you could too. We could- We could've worked it out, keep you safe, but you stayed instead."

"It's not that easy." Regulus murmured. "I can't leave, they're all I have."

"That's not true. You know it's not."

"Who do I have then? My own brother left me. And don't you dare to say I have you, because that is not true either."

"Reggie, I'm really sorry. I wish things would have turned out differently. But you should go, or I'll warn the Order." The words went through Regulus heart like a bullet. It wouldn't hurt more if James had held an actual gun to his head. It was like being hit by the first wave of a tsunami, like dying without dying. Regulus felt immensely sick.

Then James closed the door. Simple as that, no goodbyes, and Regulus stayed on that porch, staring at his door until the automatic light went off.

Then again, the door, the porch. The desolate look in Regulus eyes. He didn't expected James to welcome him into his own house and offer him a cup of tea, but he didn't expected that either. The hatred, the disgust, the hint of sadness beyond all that. He slammed the door again a second later. "I've warned the Order" James announced, his voice muffled by the thick walls of the house, but Regulus heard him anyway. He would've heard it even if he whispered in the middle of a hurricane.

Except this time, Regulus disappears. And all that's left is an inconsolable James on the other side of that door, and so many miles away, a dying body in a dark cave that dreams of him.

[inhcritance]

"What if they kissed?" IDK IF U WANT

Send "What if they kissed?" and I'll write a scene where our muses kiss, even if they aren't shipped together. it is it's own thing and doesn't have to lead to an official ship. a "what if scenario"

It takes Harry longer than he'd like to notice the armed men, and it's, in a way, sheer luck: the door is open, and one of them passes next to the table where Regulus and him are having brunch. Nothing strange, nothing out the ordinary... save for the way the man looks very calm, very collected, and yet the moment the breeze hits them just right, he reeks of stress, and a hint of old blood.

It could be nothing, he knows, but he glances at the man. Then he notices a mirror, and that's how he keeps an eye on him, and the other two men accompanying him. He's lucky, he knows, that Regulus had to attend a text, and so the conversation can continue easily enough. But Harry has a bad feeling about it. Part experience, part caution, part enhanced instincts that see weakness and keep suggesting he pounce on it.

Then one of the men moves just right, and there's something in the shape of his clothing that is far too recognizable. So he tells Regulus. It seems their brunch in Venice, a chance given by yet another expo they have crossed paths at, will have to be cut short. Then again, if it's nothing, then they can simply go somewhere else, and maybe alert the authorities.

It won't be that easy. They are followed, and the car isn't there, and it seems like there's more to the situation than it seems. Whether they're after Harry, or after Regulus, it's not certain. It's not like it matters, and as much as Harry hates to dive into a crowd, what else are they going to do? All Harry has is a knife, and he doesn't expect Regulus to have much else. So they run.

They are followed. They don't know the city, not that well, and their pursuers are almost upon them. So when Harry sees the dead end, the club backstreets with about a dozen people being far less than decorous, he knows they either fight, or... Or Regulus seems to have an idea, but so does Harry: a sharp tug and a high bill nets him a rather ugly coat, and despite the warm day it's enough to hide his shirt and vest. He can hear steps coming, he can see Regulus' look of confusion, and before he can say anything he pushes the other against the wall.

"Pretend you're enjoying this." Is all the warning he gives him.

And then he kisses him, pressing him against the wall, coat covering as much of their clothes as he can, and letting the other people obscure them from view. There is, he hopes, nothing to see there.

The steps halt. They remain. And after a few terrible, horrible moments, when he's starting to be out of breath, when he's starting to get distracted by the fact that maybe he's enjoying this a bit more than he should and Regulus is definitely faking it rather well, he hears one of the men cursing, and then they're running away.

Only then does he let Regulus go, breathless and flushed and thanking all the deities he knows for the fact that, apparently, it worked. They're safe... for now.

And somehow, not unexpectedly, Regulus is a far better kisser than he'd imagined.

[prtfrmhrtbrn]

hello i write every now n then… this is the intro to a fic i am still going to write but it’s from regulus pov and i’m scrapping this to make it james pov so… here i guess? it’s very much pre slash it’s just a little regulus scene really (please read that & acknowledge that James Is Not In This Scene. it is just regulus. sorry) but uhh Yeah 😊

fyi i’m working on other fics right now so this probably won’t be rewritten & posted anyyytime soon but i’m just posting this excerpt for funs really!

a little note on it firsttt which u can feel free to ignore (skip to the indented text to do that)! regulus uses he/they pronouns which is why there’s a mix of those pronouns in there. also: there is a moment where it implies regulus has issues with food. he doesn’t, he just forgets to eat, and doesn’t like the social aspect of the situation, but keep yourselves safe xx

(fun little fact that won’t be obvious in this part bcs… no james… but james also got hit with my pronouns beam… he has he/she days! not all of them but some. it’s indicated through wearing a necklace effie bought him when he came out Just wanted to drop that bcs i love it so much)

the general premise of the fic (u dont need to know this to read this excerpt thing!) is that jegulus meet on one of those train tours of europe. bcs regulus needs to get out more (well it’s a bit more than that but i dont go into it in this excerpt bcs… it’s the intro… why would i have put all the fun stuff in there!) & is struggling to cope with the fact that he really doesn’t want to go to uni (on his fourth/fifth gap year by now) and james has a bit of a breakdown at work (general stress along with other things but they’re not touched on in this bcs. again. i have robbed you of james 😢) and effie, monty and sirius ALL get together to be like ‘GO ON HOLIDAY’

okay that’s enough waffle. reminder that there is no actual jegulus in this its just a little intro to what the fic might have looked like if i’d gone with regulus pov. james would have come in like 6 lines later after this ends icl but i was running out of steam. anyway here!!!!

Regulus doesn't like trains.

It's not some thing. They're just not comfortable. Call him a rich boy; he is, after all- he doesn't like them. This one isn't the worst they've been on, slightly more comfortable, but that's mostly because he's currently on some holiday train across continental Europe- ie, it has beds, because they're on the train for long periods at a time. So he's not sitting.

Let it be known that, based on current experience, he's not massively on board with holiday trains across continental Europe, either. Their cousin Narcissa, though, didn't give him much choice- apparently sitting at home, alone, all the time, is sad, and, Regulus, you're filthy rich. If you've got it, spend it. Regulus hadn't massively approved of that philosophy, but when she'd followed up with, well, if you've got it and you don't like where you got it from, squander it, he'd been a little more amicable towards the idea. It doesn't mean he wanted to sit on some continental tour, but it's a little nicer to stare out a train window at canals and open countryside than to stare out the window of a horrid posh London townhouse at other horrid posh London townhouses.

They fall back on their bed and try not to think of who the dramatics of that are inspired by- not important, not here, doesn't matter at all. There's no bunk above him, because, again, filthy rich, so he's got a single room, and the train roof looks at them and seems to ask him is any of that true? So he shuts his eyes and pretends it's an open air carriage. The window is open a sliver and he pretends that the wind coming through from it is coming in through where the roof should be. It doesn't feel that much better.

A text comes through on his phone.

Narcissa: Have you eaten anything?

Regulus: ...In what time space?

Narcissa: I thought so. Go eat.

Narcissa: No point being on holiday to stop you moping if you're just going to mope on holiday as well.

Regulus: Fine.

Narcissa: Xx.

Alright. Well, if Narcissa's going to play it like that. Not that Regulus acknowledges that he's moping. There's nothing to mope about. They're not moping. They're a normal 22-year-old man, with abnormal amounts of money, and the same sense of purpose as everybody else. He swears.

Regulus has been avoiding the dining carriage. (And wow, does acknowledging that there's a dining carriage make him feel like a 1920s businessman.) It's not because they don't like eating, or because he's picky, but he just doesn't want to have to socialise with people. Ordering at restaurants is one of the worst things, maybe ever, and it always- always- feels like everyone is looking at him. Room service would be a blessing, but that's too much to ask of a train, no matter how fancy, apparently. So, to the dining carriage. Avoidance is over.

(But god damn it, Regulus loves avoiding things that scare them.)

[psychoticallykind]

He Was Learning

"Thankful" - Jegulus Microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 1,439 words

--------------------------------------------------------------

To be fair, Regulus had never claimed to be good at communication.

In fact, the only thing he had clearly communicated so far was that he was terrible at communicating. But James seemed to have an abundance of communication skills, of which Regulus was equally intimidated, irritated, and thankful. James had told him that it was alright, and they could learn together.

But now, when Regulus was snapping and overwhelmed and glaring at his boyfriend, it seemed a lot less alright. Regulus was half-convinced that James was about to break up with him, and that fear made everything more intense.

"If you don't want me there, then you can just say it. You don't have to make up some stupid story!" Regulus accused.

"I'm not -" James broke off and took a deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was calmer. "Reg, love, I'm not making up a story. I would love for you to be there, I just said that you don't have to go if you don't want to."

"You said, 'I know you don't like these types of things, you don't have to come with me tonight'," Regulus crossed his arms. "Which is just another way to say 'I don't want you there, but I don't want to say that because it'll hurt your feelings'."

James shook his head with a helpless look. "Why would it mean that? Why wouldn't I want you to come with me? That doesn't make any sense."

"It makes perfect sense," Regulus argued. "And I already know it, so don't try to make me feel stupid or paranoid here! I know what you're thinking!" He wrapped his arms tighter around himself, blinking back tears. "I know I'm not sociable or friendly or nice to people. I know I'm awkward and they don't like me and then you have to spend the whole night telling people to be nice and that I'm 'not really like that', but I am! I am like that, I'm like this, and I'm sorry it's so terrible that you don't want me around your friends anymore!"

The tears were a lost cause. He elected to close his eyes, chest heaving as he tried not to fall apart any more than he already was.

He'd been thinking about this all day. That stupid conversation James had with Sirius - 'Regulus won't have any fun, he'll be too busy judging everyone else.' 'No, he's not like that.'

But he was like that. He was sarcastic and judgmental and he didn't like people, especially dumb people who had too much to drink and couldn't remember what personal space meant.

James hadn't even invited him this time. Regulus wouldn't have known anything about the party if Sirius hadn't brought it up. Because James hadn't invited him.

"Can I touch you?"

Eyes still closed, Regulus tensed at the question. But since James was James, and Regulus always felt safe with James, he nodded.

Soon there were warm hands on his face, gently wiping at the tears. "Do you think you can look at me, please?"

Regulus blinked his eyes open, took one look at the compassion on his boyfriend's face, got overwhelmed, and shut them again. "No."

There was a soft laugh. "Alright." The hands traveled down to his arms and gently urged them apart so that his hands were held in James's. "Regulus. I know that you're not sociable or outgoing. There is nothing wrong with that. There is nothing wrong with you, and if I thought for one second that you would want to go to the party or that you would enjoy it, I would have brought it up."

Regulus pressed his lips together in an attempt to not cry anymore. He managed to nod, but didn't trust his voice enough to speak.

"I like you. I know you. I'm not hoping or expecting you to be anything other than what you are," James said. Sincere, always so sincere.

Another nod.

Regulus stepped back, managing to open his eyes and glance at James as he forced his composure into place. "Thank you. I understand, I was just - I don't know what I was." He found a wall to stare at and focused on keeping his tone even. "It was thoughtful, James, thank you."

James was being so sweet, he was being ridiculous, and he needed to pull it together before James really did break up with him. "You should probably get ready to go, though. It's almost nine."

"Regulus."

"I'll just see you tomorrow -"

"Regulus." James stepped in front of him. "I'm not going to the party."

Regulus stared at him. "What?"

"I'm not going," James repeated. He watched Regulus's expression carefully for a few seconds. "Is that why you're upset? You thought I was going without you?"

The question made something hurt in his chest. "No." Regulus shrugged, looking away. "I don't care what you do." He turned away again. "In fact, I want you to go. Take a break from my horrible compan- James!"

His eyes widened as he was spun around, and suddenly he was faced with dark curls and compassion and hazel eyes he'd grown so fond of.

James offered him an apologetic smile. "Sorry, love, but if you shut down on me now you'll be miserable all week."

"I'm not," Regulus lied. "Because I don't care about this stupid party, and I don't care about you all that much, either."

The words were too sharp, too cold. Worse than he'd intended.

But James didn't flinch. "Well, I care about you. So take a deep breath for me."

Regulus rolled his eyes, but he did take a deep breath.

"Thank you." James ran his hands up and down Regulus's arms, adding grounding pressure. "Now let's say that hypothetically, you did care about me. And you maybe cared about the party."

"I wouldn't care about the party," Regulus grumbled.

"Okay," his boyfriend nodded. "Let's say that you cared about me going without you, then. How would you feel about that?"

Oh, he hated that. Feelings. Emotions.

"Hypothetically?" He checked. When James nodded, he shrugged, looking away. "I don't know. Bad, maybe."

James didn't say anything. He didn't need to - they'd done this a few times, and Regulus knew what that look meant.

What kind of bad? Can you tell me about it?

"I hate you," he informed James.

James smiled a little. "I can work with that."

"Hmph." Regulus shrugged again. "I don't know. Just bad. Bad like anyone would feel, I guess. No one likes being left behind."

"Is that what it felt like?" James asked gently. "Like I was leaving you behind?"

Regulus flinched, biting his lip with enough force to almost split the skin in an attempt to stop the tears from falling. "No."

Left behind.

Left.

He'd been so scared.

"Oh, love." James pulled him forward as he lost the battle, and he melted into the hug, sobbing quietly into James's shoulder as James rocked them back and forth. "I'm not leaving. I didn't mean to keep the party from you, I just didn't think about it. I wasn't planning on going, we've both had a long week and I knew you wanted a quiet night tonight. You're always wanted, Regulus. I always want you."

It took a while for Regulus to calm down enough to speak. He kept his arms wrapped around James and his head tucked down, breathing in eucalyptus and coconut from the hair potion he'd given James last week. "I don't hate you."

"Well, that's good," James mumbled. He didn't let go, and Regulus was grateful. He wasn't fully together yet, and if James stopped holding him together, he'd probably start crying again. "At this point, I'd hope that maybe you're a little fond of me, yeah?"

Regulus nodded into the fabric. "Maybe."

James laughed, bright and warm. "I'll take it."

Some more deep breaths. Steady rocking. Warmth and steadiness and the red fabric of James's t-shirt. "Do you think I judge everyone?"

"I absolutely do," James confirmed. "And I love listening to you talk about everyone. You're funny and observant and you're right pretty much every time you make a prediction about someone. I adore you, and I love that I get to hear all of your thoughts on the people around us."

"Even the mean ones?" Regulus had to check.

"Even the mean ones."

Regulus thought that over for a bit. "Okay."

James pulled back a little to look at him. "Yeah?"

Regulus nodded, giving James a small but genuine smile. "Yeah."

He didn't have any good communication skills. But he was learning.

Slowly, he was learning.

[starrymused]

Regulus hadn't even thought about how much more difficult it would be if she had employees. He was so used to the wizarding world that he sometimes forgot that practices that could be used there obviously couldn't transfer to the muggle world. There was so much he still didn't know about this side; even though he'd been through London a few times now, he was always caught off guard by something.

"Thanks."

As he sat, he thought about what else to do. What to say. If there was anything he could say. Actually, he could. He could tell her what was really going on. But Dumbledore had said to keep it just between them. But how could he? It just didn't seem fair. No, he had to stop thinking like that. He'd come here with the intention of it being closure for them.

...So why was he now doubting it all?

He knew why, of course. Seeing Desiree there and talking like they were back in Hogwarts, sitting next to the Great Lake... it reminded him of a better time. They used to communicate with each other through their enchanted notebooks, leaving secret messages that only each other could see. He still had his back at Grimmauld Place. He wondered if she still had hers.

"Do you ever see your old friends?" He didn't like the thought of Desiree being isolated but he also didn't want her to be involved with anything from the wizarding side if it meant she was kept safe.

Desiree chuckled, warmed when he brought up Mandrakes. As far-flung from reality as this encounter was, she thrived in this temporary haven of peace. It felt like they had picked up right where they left off.

"I mostly serve Muggles, so no. Only harmless plants here," she chuckled. Paused. Then she added, "And yes, I live alone. No other employees, either. I don't have to hide anything when I'm the only one working behind the scenes. And people simply marvel at how efficient I am, running a place like this on my own without help."

Leading him to a table, she gestured for him to sit down.

"Let me make you a coffee."

[jamesisasimp]

Hey, so remember this?

Yeah, well I wrote it. Here it is. It's called In The Woods ♡ enjoy

You know how, partway through to the achievement of a goal, the journey gets sort of stagnant? Something shifts from fighting to drifting, waiting, for something, anything to progress. It's at this point that people are usually searching for something to break the pattern, to reignite the flame, to push them on.

Regulus has been drifting for months, and this, he thinks, is his break in the routine.

Admittedly, he's not too sure what this is, but he takes his wand out of the sheath in his sleeve and ventures out of his tent.

It's late October, possibly early November. He hasn't been too capable of keeping track in the middle of the woods, and the trees here don't change color or lose their leaves. But it's cold now that he's out of his heating charm's reach, and the air smells of that crisp, freshness that only winter brings. He pulls his cloak tighter around himself and presses on.

His camp is small, set up within the constraint of a circle no wider than six meters across. The idea was to put up a dome of protection charms, and the smaller the dome the less of a magical footprint it leaves - harder to find. It's practical, safe, but it means every time he steps outside of range he's exposed. It makes every venture, including this one, nerve wracking.

At least all of the other times he was heading out with a purpose. Not that chasing the sound of a whining, wounded animal through the dark, cold woods in the middle of the night isn't a purpose. It's just not a very good one and yet. Here he is.

"Lumos," he murmurs, and his magic hums to life through the tip of his wand, illuminating him and the trees nearest. Now that there's light he can see his own breath.

He should've known because he was nearly blind before, but he glances up through the branches to get a glimpse at the moon and finds it unfull. Barely a sliver. No wonder it was so dark. But that means the culprit of the noise isn't a werewolf that Regulus is heading right towards to get mauled.

There's no wind tonight, so the trees don't sway and their needles don't rustle and fall. In fact, the forest is oddly still. No critters scampering about and causing a fuss or birds calling. Maybe they're asleep. It's quiet. Too quiet.

All Regulus can hear are the deep animalistic groans in the distance, his footsteps, and something ringing in his ears.

So he goes, pinching the neck of his cloak together rather than pulling up the hood, and hoping the cover of darkness will keep him protected. Even though the silence makes him afraid to breathe and get caught out of bed when he shouldn't be.

Noting this, he should be scared, and yet he realizes he's not.

There's an odd, serene calm about all of this. He feels frozen in time, like this isn't really happening for the rest of the world, just him. Maybe it's the stillness or not knowing the day or the time, or maybe it's that Regulus is about to interact with a living - and likely dying, by the sound of it - thing for the first time in... in a while.

He feels untouchable as he weaves around trees and climbs up over rocky inclines. The sound gets louder and the ringing does too, and Regulus faintly regrets not adventuring in the woods as much as Sirius when he was a kid. Maybe then he'd know what animal is making the sound before he sees it.

It's a rather dreadful sight.

The deer- no, there's antlers. Stag. It's crumpled over on it's side, sprawled out in the middle of a small clearing where the frost has begun to build up on the grass. There's blood. From this distance Regulus can't see from where, but, if he had to guess, the pink and jagged tears over the animal's ribs is likely the source.

It's in obvious pain, kicking weakly in distress and moaning visibly into the air. The only odd part is... there's no culprit. No muggle hunter with a gun, though there shouldn't be in these woods anyway. No wolf or bear. Do they have bears in Scotland? Regulus hasn't a clue, but if they did he doesn't imagine they're the rare type of bears that just wound a stag for fun and leave it to bleed out rather than finishing it off.

His heart aches to see a creature in such pain. He knows this deer isn't the only one out there withering tonight, but it's the one he can actually reach. He can help. And maybe he should just leave it here because it'll take uncomfortably too long to heal it, but he can help.

That's why he's out here in the first place, isn't it? To help. He's not, but right now he can, and that's what matters.

And he didn't come all the way out here for nothing.

If he had been on more of those woodland adventures when he was younger, he might know better than to creep up on an injured animal. The goal isn't to spook it. If possible, Regulus would like to mend it's wounds and send it on it's way. It's probably got a family to get back to by now.

But he hadn't, so he doesn't know, and so when his boot lands on the frozen grass with a crunch and announces his presence, he isn't expecting the hoof he gets to the chest.

It knocks the air right out of his lungs and sends him tumbling back with the force, tripping over his own feet until he's falling. When he hits the ground he's gasping for air.

It comes to him. One terrifying beat late.

He breathes.

Right then. Probably shouldn't have snuck up on it like that.

The stag is in near hysterics and Regulus pushes himself up onto his elbows. It's thrashing out, and this time he knows well enough to stay out of range when he climbs back to his feet, inwardly accepting the bruise that it's undoubtedly going to leave.

"Alright," he's trying to talk to it before he can stop himself. A deer. He's talking to a deer. Well, at least it can't talk back and let him know how rotten he is at conversation. "Alright, it's okay. I'm not here to hurt you."

If the stag understands him, which it presumably does not, it doesn't care.

"Please, would, you just-" Regulus was trying to get closer again and had to jump back to avoid his legs being knocked out from beneath him by another swiping hoof. "Yes, I know how strong and scary you are, you haven't got to show me again. Let me- hey!"

The stag tipped its head forward enough to get one of its antlers caught the end of Regulus's cloak. It's instantly tangled in the material, and when he tries to tug it off the stag outright screams and yanks in his own direction, which makes Regulus stumble closer to the stomping hooves of death.

"Okay! Okay, you want the cloak?" he asks, not expecting an answer and not getting one as he shrugs off his other sleeve and tosses it onto the ground. "There, you can have it."

The stag is still panting but, without the tension to fight, it's head just flops over onto the heap of the cloak. It let's out a heavy sigh through its nose, one Regulus can only imagine is of pain, and his heart clenches.

"That hurt you, didn't it?"

The stag is still watching him as he carefully lowers himself to his knees. He's proper cold now, goosebumps trailing all up his arms, but that's not his biggest concern. If the deer wants his cloak to stay calm then he can have it. Anything to keep those hooves on the ground.

He doesn't have to get any closer to see the severity of the major wound on the animal's ribs. A whole chunk of flesh is missing, like someone took a spoon and just scooped it out, and the surrounding fur is matted in blood that shines in the light of his wand. The good thing, he supposes, is that he can't see bone, so the wound can't be too terribly deep. The ribs are sort of right under the surface, aren't they? He's a bit shit at first aid on people, let alone animals...

"Right. Well I can mend that a bit, replenish the skin and get you some bandages," he tells the deer, who only huffs in response. "But this wouldn't have hurt your head..."

He has to inch closer to get a better look at the deer's neck, which makes the animal rigged, tense and ready for a fight.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he reminds it. "I just want to help. Can I...?"

He points towards the stag's neck, and, for a long moment, it just stares at him. Then, eventually, it lays its head back down, seemingly granting him willing access.

Maybe, somehow, it can understand him.

"Thank you."

He settles on his hip with his legs bent, following the curve of the deer's outstretched front legs. The ground is hard and freezing, but he doesn't care.

There's no surface level damage that he can see, so Regulus suspects it's a sprained muscle of some sort, under the skin. Carefully, slowly, and with an eye on the deer's face to make sure it doesn't suddenly lose its mind again, he presses his hand to the animal's neck. The fur is surprisingly soft for a woodland creature, but he's not feeling for that, far more interested in the skin underneath.

He was expecting a knot of muscle, like you get in your shoulders when you overuse them in an odd position. Massage it and it disappears, but that's not what he finds. It's a bump, a bit of uneven, raised skin. It's a-

"Scar," he whispers. "Now where'd you get that?"

The stag makes a rumbly noise that Regulus can feel under his fingers. Which doesn't clear anything up, by the way, but he appreciates the effort.

Still, it seems fresh. Maybe it's pressing on something that agitates the stag, he doesn't know. He's not well versed in the anatomy of deer.

Either way, it's nothing that requires his attention too drastically.

The stag is still looking at him with wide, dark brown eyes, and Regulus continues to gently stroke his neck until he feels some tension leave the poor animal.

"What did this to you?" he whispers, searching the deer's gaze.

There's still no answer.

"Right. Well. Some dittany will fix you right up. Hopefully the silver won't mess it up..." he musses to himself and retrieves the bottle from his pocket. It's homemade, which does air a bit of caution, but Regulus needed something out here to protect him in case he did run into a werewolf.

Besides, he was great at potions. Hasn't properly brewed one in two years, but that's alright.

And, you know, if it doesn't work, at least then he'll know so he doesn't use it on himself.

He doesn't know why he keeps talking to the deer, but he hopes it's comforting it a little, if only just another sound for the animal. "It's going to sting," he warns, and the stag makes a sound of indignation that almost makes Regulus smile. Somehow it sounded... exasperated? "Well I'm sorry, do you want this wound to close or not?"

Another huff.

"That's what I thought."

He clamps the cap for the bottle in his fist to make sure he doesn't lose it and carefully tips the mouth over the wound. Just a few drops slide out and fall onto the gash, and the stag is instantly in motion, seizing and thrashing and trying to get away from the pain Regulus had warned about.

He ducks down and throws himself against the stag's belly, pressing his body close to avoid the hooves.

"Alright, okay," he tries to soothe the spooked creature, smothering a cough in its fur as he accidentally breathes in the thin green smoke coming from where the potion met the wound. "Alright. It's okay. Just a little sting, like we talked about."

The stag barely settles, but that's enough for Regulus to lift the bottle again, because the wound was big enough to need more.

There was no warning before he tipped it in, and that ended up being a mistake because the animal positively screamed. It lashed out so swiftly Regulus's arm jerked and spilled more of the potion than he meant to, but he capped it quickly and curled himself up into the stag's chest and just waited it out this time.

And this time, because he got enough of the potion on there, it actually started to heal instead of just hurting. He got too much, the bitter thought comes as Regulus pushes the now half empty bottle back into his pocket. I can always make more, he reminds himself.

It takes a while, but, eventually, the stag settles, slumping right against the ground like all of its strings got clipped.

When Regulus crawls out from beneath one of it's legs and into the light, there's blood on his hands.

But a quick survey of the wound let's him know it worked. It doesn't look good, because Regulus is an amateur and the circumstances were rather worse for the wear, but it's done. The green sheen is dissipating and reveals a smooth red scar. It's sunken in as deep as the gash was, so not a smooth transition by any means. At least it's not bleeding.

"There," he finally let's himself breathe. "Told you I'd fix you right up. Now you've got a nice battle scar to bring back to your family."

The stag let's out a miserable sound, one that pierces right into Regulus's chests and makes him wonder if, possibly, this deer is just as lonely as he is.

Not that there's anything to be done about that.

It's still using his cloak as a pillow, so he doesn't try to take it back. He pushes himself up and gathers his wand from the grass so he can mutter a bandaging incantation. That handiwork turns out much more successful, the smooth and clean bandages wrapping around the deer's torso to secure the wound. Ideally, it'll keep it somewhat clean and protect it from the elements until it's fully healed.

Ideally.

He casts a quick diagnostic charm for good measure, just to be sure there's nothing more he can do for the creature, and that's when his blood turns as cold as his skin.

"You- you've been crucioed."

He'd recognize the symptoms anywhere, and the scar- scar of impact. It only occurs when the spell is particularly targeted and strong. He knows because Sirius has a few, but...

But if this deer had the cruciatus curse put on it...

"Where's it's caster?"

In an instant the world shifts. Time is no longer frozen, the woods are no longer still, the wind has shifted and Regulus can feel deep within that he is no longer the hunter. No, he is the prey.

"Nox."

He snatches up his wand and climbs to his feet in an instant, eyes on the surrounding trees. He paid no mind to them before, but now the silent darkness has him on edge.

It's so empty that it can't be natural. Anyone could be there hiding behind the branches, any shadow could be ready to pounce, and Regulus knows he needs to act first or he'll be taken by surprise.

And he has come way too far, spent way too long, to lose it all like this.

But it's hard to hit what you can't see.

Magical energy is crackling in the air that wasn't before, frying the freshness right out of it.

It was a trick.

This was all a trick, betting on his empathy that Regulus had spent years trying to squash. Unsuccessfully. And he fell for it, right into the center of the trap, painted a bright red bull's eye with this deer's blood, just waiting for the arrow.

A trick.

A trick a trick a trick.

Stupid stupid stupid.

He's out in the open, unprepared, half blind in the dark.

Alright then, he wants to say, come out and get me. Stop hiding and finish the damn job.

But, before he can ever open his mouth, another voice reaches his ears.

"Regulus..."

He spins around and focuses his wand in an instant, curse on the tip of his tongue, and the only reason he doesn't let his magic out is because of what he finds there.

There's no wounded stag slumped over in the grass.

No, there's a man.

A stark naked man barely covered with Regulus's cloak, blood smudged over his sickly skin.

A man Regulus would know anywhere.

"James?" he breathes. "James Potter?"

[thatoneoverlyhornybitch]

How badly do you want it? | part 3

Regulus Black x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Slut shaming, words whore and prostitute used, kinda angsty, attempted sexual assault, cheesy confession, poor writing

The test had already passed, and Regulus had been avoiding me like the plague. He managed to maintain his perfect grades, while mine continued to drop lower and lower. It was only sex, and he hadn't necessarily gone out of his way to hurt me, but I still felt hurt nonetheless.

Why did I feel so empty over a boy I'd fucked once? It made no sense, sure he was unbelievably pretty, and maybe he had a smooth voice, but it wasn't like I was in love with him.

I groaned as I pulled my head up from my table, my friends around me talking. I didn't join in the conversation, I haven't been joining in any conversations recently. It's weird how big of an effect he had on me, it truly felt like a piece of me died.

"(Y/n)." Called a rather annoyed looking Sirius Black, older brother to the boy that had currently plagued my mind. His yes were narrowed, and the side of his mouth was pulled into a slight frown. I nodded in acknowledgement, waiting for him to speak.

"Did you snog with Regulus?" He asked, his voice ice cold. I decided to play it safe and shook my head, "Why would I snog him? He and his grades annoy me." I stated, making sure to keep a neutral expresssion.

He seemed to believe this as his annoyance melted away and instead there was concern. "Well, Lucius Malfoy and some of the other Slytherin's are spreading rumors of you being a whore, you should deal with it."

He stepped away at that, walking back over to his friend group, "the marauders". What a stupid lot. Always trying to bully poor Regulus. Why am I thinking about him again?

I shook the mouth watering image of him inbetween my thighs from my head, instead focusing on the most dire problem: the rumors. Not being afraid of conflict, I marched right over to where Lucius sat, who just so happened to have Regulus seated next to him, a book in his hands.

"Malfoy, I heard you've been spreading rumors." I stated, crossing my arms and tapping my foot, pulling the most stone cold expression I could. He stopped talking to who I believe to be Bellatrix Lestrange, and looked me dead in the eye, abruptly standing up. A cruel smirk spread across his lips, and he placed his hands on Regulus's shoulders.

"Well dear Regulus here told us quite the story, didn't you?" Regulus nodded, not looking up from his book, although there was a slight tick to his jaw. "We figured it'd be good for your business to let others know, because it's quite clear you're just a filthy whore."

The other Slytherin's let out loud bursts of laughter, calling me various names all meaning the same thing, whore. I narrowed my eyes further, and never broke eye contact.

"Have you ever thought for a moment that, dear reggy, was the one who came onto me?" I asked, annoyance laced through my words. I could see Regulus's hand twitch, but he still refused to look up from the book.

Lucius laughed again, "I know him well enough to say he would never have anything to do with someone like you if it weren't for that book."

"You really think he'd be willing to do that for a book?"

"Clearly."

I pursed my lips, breaking eye contact to look at Regulus, only to find his eyes fixated on my own, but just as quickly as I'd seen it they were back on his book. Corner of his mouth twitching upwards lightly.

"Then go on, by all means, send some people my way. I don't mind since I'm apparently nothing but a halfblood slut that only cares about dick." I exclaimed loudly, making sure others could hear it. I dramatically spread my arms out, a falsely cocky smirk on my face.

The whole area went silent. I could feel dozens of pairs of eyes on me, but I ignored them as I walked away, adding a slight sway to my hips. There were a few mocking cheers, and I could feel the confused looks from my friends but I simply left.

I,of course, went to the library. In that exact same corner. I sat down, pulling out a random shitty muggle romance novel I'd gotten my hands on, and cozied into my seat completely ignoring my surroundings.

Which is why I was surprised to feel a hand on my shoulder, I of course, assumed it was Regulus and looked up with a smile. Only to make eye contact with a an unfamiliar boy dressed in Slytherin robes, he must haved heard.

"I heard you're a prostitute." He started, and I furrowed my eyebrows, how had it changed from just a whore to a prostitute. I narrowed my eyes at him and shrugged his hand off my shoulder. "Not interested."

"I wasn't asking."

He then took my arm in a vice grip, holding on so hard it would surely bruise. He smacked his lips against mine, and restrained my other arm. I kicked against him, and bit into his lip as hard as I could. He let out a yell of pain, quickly releasing me. I began to scurry away when I felt his hand on me again, I was about to scream when a hand gently wrapped around my waist and pulled me from him.

I turned my head only to see a furius glint in the eyes of none other than Regulus Black. I allowed myself to be pulled into him, averting my gaze from the boy in front of me.

"Ah Reg, its just you. Wanna share her?" The boy asked cluelessly, walking back towards us. Regulus swiftly pointed his wand at him, hand clenched so tightly around the wand he was twitching.

"Get the fuck out of here." The boy didn't waste another moment and took off, his footsteps becoming fainter and fainter until he was gone. Regulus stayed tense, but slackened his grip on me. It was silent for a while, the both of us just standing there, until he buried his nose into my nape.

"I'm so sorry pretty girl," He murmured softly, nuzzling his nose into my skin and giving a small inhale. I shuddered slightly, but leaned back into him. I sighed in contentment, I was still annoyed with him, but it just felt so right in his arms. "Its okay reggy.... I understand you're ashamed of me because of my blood status."

He immediately pulled his head up, and turning me around. His hands immediately came up to my cheeks, making me look right at him. "I could NEVER be ashamed of you, I just... I have something I need to do, and if they were to know I fell for someone who wasn't a pure blood, it'd be over for me." He stroked my face sweetly, smiling slightly.

I gazed at him, before looking to the side for a moment. "What do you mean fell for?" He chuckled and kissed my cheek.

"That's what you chose to focus on?" I rolled my eyes playfully, and lightly flicking his chest. Another laugh left him as he held me tighter to him.

"Yes I've fallen in love with you. I've loved you for a long time really, ever since that exam in our second year that you outdid me in almost everything. I was a little annoyed, but impressed me how smart you were, and I just knew I had to learn more about you. So I did, I paid attention to all of your little habits, expressions, favorite places to go, favorites books, everything. I know it may sound creepy but I love-"

I cut him off by laying a gentle kiss to his lips, and pulling away only to press my forehead to his. "I think I love you too Regulus Arcturus Black. Very much." He smiled wide, and held me tighter.

"I'm going to kill that fucker."

"What?"

"The guy who tried to rape you."

Oh. I'd already forgotten. How had I forgotten something so traumatizing? Was it because I was being held? Because he made me feel safe?

"I mean, I'll help hide the body." I said softly looking up to him again. He quickly grinned, laughing again.

"Oh I know you will love."

Yeah idk where I went with that, once again wrote it from my phone because I haven't had access to my laptop. I can write another part, but I'd rather leave this as the end to this one.

[heartofspells]

Masterpost

@wolfstarmicrofic

Prompt: baby steps

Sirius remains in St Mungo's for a few more days after waking as they observe him, test his body and mind, treat him like a pygmy puff locked in a cage for experimentation. He rankles with it, but there's not much Sirius can do about it. When he finally gets to leave, all his muscles are weak and shaky beneath his weight. The spells had helped a great deal, the Healers telling him if he'd been confined to the Muggle world, he'd likely have had months upon months of recovery to walk again at all, to retrain his body how to move and cooperate as it should.

"Baby steps," James had said as he'd helped support Sirius on their way out of the ward and to an Apparition point within the hospital. Peter, situated on Sirius' other side, had parroted the words, just looking thankful at all to have Sirius draped over him.

They'd all given him the story to the best of their abilities, about them going out that night so many months before, the one Sirius still can't remember. James had explained about finding him the next morning, how he'd never woken up, remained in that same bed with them watching and hoping.

The brown-eyed, freckled man had left at some point during the retelling. Sirius had looked up once, curiosity taking him over, something pulling at the edges of his memory, but the stranger had been gone, slipped away when no one was paying attention. Sirius had fallen into distraction after that, like his mind had drifted into a void without any air that felt safe and comfortable even as he thought it should be terrifying. When the others had finally pulled him back, the rest of what they had to say sent his head spinning.

Obliviated, they'd said, having only figured it out when Andromeda had come to visit Sirius and found Regulus skulking in the corridors. She'd pulled him away, demanded answers for where he'd been, Sirius' younger brother stoic, barely responding with anything that made sense, only saying he'd hid himself away from the rest of their family once things became too bad to tolerate.

It had been him that had done it. He'd been tracking Sirius for a while, watching him. Regulus had wanted him back, thought that if he could remove Sirius' strongest memories after going to Hogwarts, they could rebuild in their own way, but something had gone wrong once he'd cornered Sirius in his flat. The spell had reacted negatively, knocking Sirius unconscious, leaving him a shell, Regulus unable to wake him. He'd ran when he'd heard James outside the door, cracking out of existence, but he'd been coming to St Mungo's regularly, trying to figure out what he'd broken and how to fix it.

"I feel a bit lousy," James had said mulishly. "I thought it had been Lupin hanging round, poking in where he didn't belong. I didn't realize until I showed up here today, saw Andromeda. I thought she was Bellatrix, especially when I spotted Regulus with her. And then Lupin was along for the ride, spearheading the whole thing. Something added up then, but not the right parts. I thought they were here to hurt you, which was only reinforced when Lupin ran to you, started touching. I nearly took his head off."

"Lupin?" Sirius had questioned with a deep frown, staring at the vacant spot where the curious freckles had once been. "Who is he?"

James had shrugged one shoulder. "Just a bloke."

"He's the one who's been staying in your flat, keeping an eye on it," Lily had explained. "He's kind, soft spoken. He didn't deserve this blame."

"What was I supposed to think, Lily?" James had muttered sourly. "He was just…so persistent. I thought he was mental, asking all those questions about someone he didn't know at all."

Lily had raised her hands in a calming motion, but Andromeda had spoken before the red head could open her mouth. "Remus says they've met, actually," she'd stated, shoulders pushed back even as her head tilted in Sirius' direction, observing him like she'd known something about what was going through his head. "He says they met the night this all happened."

"What?" James had snapped, his head whipping in Andromeda's direction. "What are you talking about?"

"I don't know," Andromeda had said with a shake of her head. "He didn't elaborate and there were more important things for me to focus on, but he's the one that gave Sirius that scratch." Her eyes had shifted, fixing with Sirius' own then. "He's the reason the spell didn't take, the reason it reacted differently than it was meant to. Remus is the reason you're here right now, Sirius. He saved you. Twice."

Sirius had squeezed his eyes closed then, blocking it all out, leaning heavily into Lily's side. He'd known there was more; more explanations for what had happened, apologies hanging heavily in the stifling air surrounding them all, reasons for why he was awake at all, but Sirius hadn't had the strength to hear it then. He'd only wanted to go home, return to his life, however far away and pointless that all felt then.

He spends his days now with the Potters, staying at their house because he still needs help to move around, relying on his friends for the care he can't give himself yet. Sirius spends a lot of time with Harry, his godson overjoyed to see him again, nearly tackling him to the floor upon their first meeting, tears in his bright green eyes the eight-year-old had tried desperately to hide but Sirius had seen all the same.

They talk and joke, read books, play games, laugh and whisper secrets between them, all the things they've always done. Harry is the light of the sun, a warmth filling in those hollowed places Sirius can feel within himself that he thinks has always existed while he's refused to look at them too closely. He's not sure why he's seeing them so clearly now.

Sirius thinks things are creeping in, slowly, confusingly. He sits and watches the family around him, catching glimpses of blue hair over Harry's dark head, seeing bubblegum pink when he looks at Lily, flashes of scars riddling James' body instead of the smooth skin he possesses. It's all just trickles of things that make no sense, like a family laughing as they surround a game board in a familiar place, love encased in their voices. He blinks and sees the brightness of a park, wind whistling through trees, shouts of enthusiasm not far from his hears, blackbirds soaring through the sky overhead.

When Sirius is alone at night, he can close his eyes and pull fluttering images to him that flicker and retreat before they're able to come to rest where he can keep them. Firelights glowing, dark eyes highlighted by the yellow hues of streetlights, murmured words in the dark of shadows, knowledge gained, secrets divulged and trusted fiercely, hot fingers on skin where they shouldn't have existed or been possible, gasped breaths shattering silence and shuddering the night.

When Sirius can take it no more, once he can move on his own with little help, he searches his things until he locates the address Andromeda had given him before leaving St Mungo's. He stares at it for a few seconds and then he leaves, Apparating away, stumbling a bit when he lands but not letting it deter him. He knocks impatiently on the bright yellow door, foot tapping as he waits for it to open, speaking immediately when it does.

"Tell me what you know," he demands, a desperation for understanding in his voice and words that he can't control. "Tell me about him. Tell me why he was there, why he cared at all. Tell me how he saved me. Tell me about Remus Lupin."

Andromeda stares at him through the open frame, eyes shifting over him for a long, heavily silent moment before she sighs and steps to the side. "Come in, Sirius."

[cursedfortune]

She knew that about him. Even upon the first day, when he proclaimed his love for her and she was uncertain - he never once tried to touch her in a way that suggested he was sexually motivated. She knew especially he had never engaged in such intimate acts until their first morning together in bed, which gave her more insight into how Greed truly worked. It was never that he was above intimacy, that he didn't want it - he just never had someone who loved him in the way he wanted to be loved.

Her fingers affectionately trailed over his scars, loving each one of them because they were a part of him. Each trial he endured and survived, each instance he overcame.

“You set me free and when you had the choice, the chance that others would have taken, you didn’t run away from me, you remained and came back to save my life, when you could have left me to die.”

The memory of feeling his life flickering, threatening to go out... it was ingrained within her. She felt all the other hearts removed from the area, leaving him solely relying on hers. Her heart could handle him in all the ways he needed, she just had to reach him. There had been no hesitation when Mortem had jumped into the hole in the earth, into the sewers after him. Every piece of rubble she had hit, every broken pipe meant nothing to her in - all that mattered was reaching him.

"Concepts like fate and destiny are ones I detest. Even so, like I said, it wasn't a choice to save you. I love you. I'd do anything to keep you safe and our love alive." It was the same way he had always regarded her, after-all. It was what he preached, what he practiced - even if it took him time to understand what true love actually was. But they both figured it out together, still were even.

To have him here, relaxed beneath her touch... it meant everything.

When he moved suddenly she watched him as he turned, the way the fireplace backlit his visage. It was one she enjoyed greatly. The nights they fell asleep right here, before the fireplace - waking up in the night to see how peaceful he looked in its light. Even now, with the way his golden eyes shined with an intensity purely unique to her husband, she found herself softening at the sight. Others no doubt would have been intimidated by how quick he moved, by the intense stare he gave - but she trusted him, her eyes shutting as his hands cradled her face and she felt his affectionate.

His love.

"Only you." She murmured in return, her love resounding with every beat of her heart within his chest.

His kiss was better than the morning sun on her skin. She felt everything he wished to share in that simple gesture alone, if only because she had come to understand Regulus so well. Who else could handle him when he was lashing out? Who else confronted him when his Greed was running rampant? Who else loved him in these quiet moments where true bliss was found? Who accepted all these sides of him could coexist inside a single soul?

Mortem had been so worried he'd grow restless on this small world, in this quaint little cabin in the middle of nowhere. At first, he had been. But over the time being here... his shoulders seemed to relax, he became more willing to understand just why this was the place she called home for so long. Why it was the first place that came to mind to take him to in order to protect him. The heart of a witch was a powerful thing, he was still plenty dangerous. And yet... strangely enough, it seemed that constant hunger to satiated his greed had calmed. Allowing him to experience the mundane and see why she always slowed him down to experience the present with her.

It was just them now, a thing she had always wanted. Not to say she hadn't accepted their life on his world. Him being empowered and safe meant more to her, and she trusted his love. But here, with just the two of them, she was seeing Regulus not just as the Sin Archbishop that represented Greed - she was seeing him as just a man, because he was allowing himself to be one.

The sudden undressing hardly made the witch feel shy. Her inked skin and nudity was always a sight he was welcomed to perceive anytime he wished. As always, she was comfortable in her own skin just as she was comfortable with the way his eyes roved over her form. There was a little quirk of her lips, watching him taking her in. Mortem always liked how love and hunger infused together in his eyes when he looked at her. It was a thing she adored about Regulus, how his gaze alone could make her feel wanted and appreciated.

A little laugh left her lips as he didn't use words, instead he guided her to lay down on her stomach - making it apparent to her he intended to reciprocate the massage. His enthusiasm to do so made her smile brightly as she settled upon her stomach, her arms folding to allow her forehead to rest against them. His weight upon her, the warmth of his body already made her feel relaxed - she loved being close to him. Sharing a physical connection. But when his hands got to work, the witch melted with ease. Vaguely she paid attention to the way he learned her body once more, how he learned from how she massaged him. Soft hums of approval left her lips, a roadmap for him to know he was creating little miracles wherever his hands roamed.

Her shoulders, her back, she enjoyed the way his fingers kneaded her muscles. For such a lithe woman, she had plenty of deceptive muscles that she used for destroying their enemies. But in this moment, she was a gentle thing - full of little sighs of adoration. When his thumbs massaged her neck, she instinctively leaned into his touch before reminding herself to relax and be still.

"It's almost unfair how quick of a study you are." Mortem mused softly, completely soothed already and far from complaining. It never took much with her, not when she had been starved of loving touches until they met. Physical contact was the language of her people, for him to seek to meet her halfway meant she'd always have a reason for the tension in her shoulders to relax. Caught between his comfortable weight and the plush blanket beneath her, she enjoyed the warmth - the way his hands chased away the chill and the heat of the fireplace kissed her skin. Plum curls cascaded off to the side and out of his way as his hands massaged her inked flesh. Over the sword that was engraved down her spine and the many sigils and runes that surrounded it. He was a tapestry of scars and she was a tapestry of art - both embodying the history of themselves and of their worlds.

The witch's eyes fluttered shut and each beat of her heart was full of reverence for him. A quiet melody, a love song.

The words hung in the air, a gentle confession whispered against his skin. He felt his heart swell with a warmth that was foreign and terrifying. He was a man of power, of command, of greed, and yet here he was, laid bare before her - a Sin Archbishop at the mercy of love's sweet tyranny. He took a deep breath, the scent of the fire mingling with her intoxicating aroma. Her hands were a symphony of sensation against his back, kneading away the knots of his tension. He allowed himself to lean back into her embrace, his muscles relaxing as she worked her magic.

“I once found the act to be disgusting and to be lower than myself, I looked down at it once, hated the idea, it disgusted me, but now …”

Her story of love and intuition painted a picture of a world he had never truly understood. A world where bonds went beyond the superficial and into the realms of destiny. The fire crackled, casting flickering shadows across the room. He felt the weight of her gaze upon him, her eyes speaking a silent language that he could almost decode. The warmth of her breasts pressing against his back was a stark contrast to the coolness of the air in the room.

He sat still under her gentle touch, his mind racing with the implications of her words. His body was a canvas of his battles, each scar a testament to his power and survival. The one on his right shoulder, the thin, almost invisible line that traced down his spine, the puckered mess on his left leg, all gifts from his enemies that had broken him into pieces and left him for death until she came for him.

“You set me free and when you had the choice, the chance that others would have taken, you didn’t run away from me, you remained and came back to save my life, when you could have left me to die.”

Her hands moved with purpose over his skin, tracing the lines of his past with the tenderness of a lover and the curiosity of a historian. Each scar had a story to tell, a tale of victory and loss, of battles won and battles survived. And she listened to them, her fingertips whispering across the contours of his body, interpreting the silent language of his history. It was a strange feeling for him, to be so exposed, yet he couldn't find the strength to push her away.

He moved with the suddenness of a predator coming out of repose. He sat up, turning to face her, his eyes locking onto hers. The firelight reflected in the pools of his pupils, making them seem as if they burned with the same intensity as the flames. He reached up, his own hands large and powerful, and cupped her face in his palms. For a moment, she was lost in the sensation of his warmth, the calloused skin of his thumbs brushing against her cheekbones.

“I love you, only you, no other.”

He leaned in, and she felt his breath, a soft whisper of air that seemed to carry with it the very essence of his being. His lips met her forehead in a kiss that was gentle, yet firm. It was a declaration, a silent promise that resonated through her core. He closed his eyes, savoring the sensation of her touch, feeling the love that emanated from her. It was a stark contrast to the man who had once been feared by many, who had wielded the power of greed without mercy, now he was human, with only his heart and her own, he once thought, that it would never be enough, but he was wrong, she had taught him better, that even with twenty seconds of impossible and world breaking powers, he was still dangerous.

“It is me and you wife, just the two of us, the way it was meant to be.”

He flicked his finger, and her clothing, which had been clinging to her body as if painted on, blew away into shreds. The fabric disintegrated into the air, leaving her naked before him. He didn't speak, but his eyes did. They roved over her form with a hunger that was both primal and reverent. He marveled at the perfection of her nudity, the way the firelight danced across her skin, illuminating every curve and line. Her breasts heaved with each breath she took, her nipples hardening in the coolness that her clothing had shielded from. Her stomach was flat, her hips curving gently into long, slender legs.

With a grace that belied his power, he laid her down on her stomach on the plush fur rug before the roaring fireplace. He knew she would not protest, as he straddled her, his knees pressing into the soft flesh of her thighs. His hands hovered over her shoulders, feeling the tension knotting her muscles. His thumbs found the base of her neck, and he began to knead, pressing firmly into the taut muscles, working them out with a steady, rhythmic motion. It was like she said, he was learning, to meet her halfway in all things.